


A Pool, In The Nighttime

by peevee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/pseuds/peevee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one of the smaller pools a short distance away, a nose, a pair of eyes and a dark mop of hair silently observes as she swims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pool, In The Nighttime

She waits patiently for the smells and sounds of the evening’s activities to be replaced by the almost-silence of night before creeping out into the clear moonlight, wrapped only in a fur over her thin slip. The steam rising from the hot springs is visible from the edge of the forest, creating eerie tendrils of mist that creep through the trees, and she pads towards them, bare feet silent in the soft moss.

Reaching the largest pool, she shrugs off the furs, pulls the slip over her head and hurries in to the water, goosebumps prickling her skin as she relaxes into the delicious heat. She swims a few laps, twisting in the water and floating in the deepest part, stretching her long legs to feel the sandy sediment that lines the bottom and luxuriating in the feel of being naked in the water. She always waits until nobody is like to be awake before taking to the springs, embarrassed that someone might see her.

It used to be that she would bathe with her brothers and her sister, splashing and laughing and ducking each other in the steaming water until Theon had joined them one afternoon close to her twelfth name day. He looked at her with eyes as large as saucers before seeming to come to his senses, after which he hooted and japed about her small breasts and the fine, downy hair between her legs until she was glowing pink with shame as well as the heat and Bran had thumped him. She’d gathered her furs around her and fled from the pool, and after that had only bathed alone despite protestations from Bran and pleading from Arya.

Taking a breath, she sinks under the surface to wet her long hair and shakes her fingers through it to clean it, pushing it off her face as she rises and allowing her hands to smooth down her body, cupping over her breasts and sliding over her pale belly. Theon still makes japes of her breasts, but more than once she has looked over to see him looking at the neckline of her gowns, dark eyed. She cups them again, the soft damp weight in her hands comforting, and drags an experimental thumb over one cold-peaked nipple, fluttering her eyes shut and sliding her shoulders back into the water.

~

In one of the smaller pools a short distance away, a nose, a pair of eyes and a dark mop of hair silently observes as she swims. Hidden from the moonlight in the shadow of a great pine he is almost invisible, though he has crept slightly further forward into the light for a better view of the largest pool. His companion in the small pool is dozing lightly, head resting on the mossy bank as he exhales little puffs of steamy breath into the icy air.

He watches, mouth dry as she holds her full breasts, seemingly just enjoying their feel in her hands and occasionally brushing her nipples, squeezing, her eyes fluttering closed-

“Jon.” A whisper.

Jon jerks his head around, feeling absurdly like a naughty child caught stealing from the pantry. Robb is looking quizzically at him, propped up on his elbow.

“What is it?”

Jon hesitates, swallowing thickly before moving back into the deep shadow and gesturing Robb forwards.

“Sansa,” he murmurs.

Robb wriggles forward, squinting over towards the largest pool, before shrinking backwards suddenly. Jon can practically feel the heat of the blush staining his face as he turns.

“She’s ah-”

“Yes.” He smiles tightly, stomach jumping wildly.

Robb slides back into the shade of the pine, pressed against Jon shoulder to hip as he tries to hide his bright hair in the gloom. It is clear he is trying not to look at Sansa but failing miserably, wide eyes flicking back to her every few seconds before glancing back at Jon. She is still using one hand to cup a pale breast; the other has slipped out of view beneath the surface.

“We cannot watch this,” an urgent murmur into Jon’s ear, “It’s-it’s wrong.”

“Yes,” he nods heavily, unable to tear his eyes away and shifting uncomfortably as he feels the slick slide of Robb’s thigh against his own. The hairs on the back of his neck are standing up and he takes a deep shuddering breath.

“She’s our sister.”

She doesn’t look like their sister. Their sister is a girl, a child who still has fights with Arya and is scolded by her lady mother for eating too many strawberry tarts before supper, who likes tea parties and dressing up and stories about knights and princesses. In the largest pool is a woman, with a woman’s breasts and hips and desires, and she is arching against the banks.

He turns to look at Robb, his eyes large with the dark, mouth wet from the water and red where he’s bitten down. His liquid gaze focuses on Jon with purpose, and Jon stares back doggedly, because the other option...well. The other option splashes in the largest pool as she rises quickly out of the water, bare skin steaming in the wintry air.

Pretences gone, both pairs of eyes in the smallest pool turn to watch as she dries herself hurriedly, hand pausing briefly to dip between her legs and up to her mouth before she pulls her furs around her and begins to pad back to the keep. Jon is suddenly very aware of Robb’s hand in between them, the fingers of which are clenching reflexively and brushing ever so slightly against his thigh. Repressing a shudder, he inches ever so slightly closer, and almost stops breathing when he feels Robb’s hand slide hesitantly along his leg. Sansa still within hearing distance, he fights to keep absolutely still as Robb’s long fingers gently brush his trembling skin.

He bites his lip and looks up to find Robb gazing at him determinedly, and the hand creeps along to his knee, fingers brushing in soft little circles.

Tentatively, he moves his own hand to Robb’s arm, thumbing the blue-veined crook of his elbow, dragging a nail down the pale skin on the underside of his wrist. Robb makes a small noise.

“ - Can I?” A warm whisper into the hot skin of Robb’s neck.

“Yes, yes…” His head arched back, he slides down into the water and underneath Jon.

Jon looks down at Robb underneath him, feels his heart like it’s about to beat out of his body, feels Robb’s long-fingered hands as they grip his waist, thumb his hips and dig sweetly in to the hollows of his hipbones as Jon licks a long stripe up his neck.

“Jon.”

He licks the outline of Robb’s open mouth, still red and wet and lush, and he licks the shell of Robb’s ear, cold and soft.

Robb brings both hands sliding up Jon’s back and pulls his head down impatiently, arching into the kiss and making a noise like he’s a starving man at a kings feast. Jon can’t get enough, and then they’re clutching at each other, kissing fiercely and it’s wet and slippery and hot hot hot.

He can feel Robb pressed urgently up against him, slim and warm and he wants to stay like this forever, breath coming in white puffs between delicious desperate kisses, waves of sweet hot heat coursing through him and Robb’s lovely face with his dark dark eyes and laughing mouth.

Robb spends first, gasping harshly into Jon’s shoulder as they slide stutteringly together and Jon only needs to feel the sharp grip of Robb’s hand on the back of his thigh as he peaks to follow him, dark stars bursting behind his eyelids as his heart beats a staccato rhythm and he is moaning “RobbRobb _Robb_.”

Then Robb is kissing him wetly, hands roaming all over him, over his hips, his ribs, his neck, up to tangle in dripping hair. He pulls back, and even in the shadows Jon sees how lovely his smile is.

Outside Jon’s rooms Robb uses one hand to manoeuvre Jon against the thick oaken door, thumb slipping under his shirt like a promise. Jon leans forward, traces his tongue over Robb’s lips and smiles and smiles and smiles.


End file.
